


Relaxation Techniques

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Massage, Post-Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3517514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny Mediscout ficlet (old work, again), written off the following concept: "Maybe at one of those rare times when Scout starts seriously doubting his value to the team, Medic would be there telling him how much Scout means to him even when annoying all other team members to death, so nothing gets fixed but Scout is happy."</p><p>- - -</p><p>"Yeah, doc, right there— ooh. Harder." Scout did his level best not to sound like he was receiving something other than a back rub, gritting his teeth and holding onto the edge of the desk despite Medic’s frequent instructions for him to relax. "Ya swear you don’t mind doin’ this?"</p><p>"Ja, ja, I svear." Medic dismissed this suggestion lightly with a wave of his hand, strong fingers kneading along the planes and muscles of Scout’s supple back. Without gloves, his hands were remarkably soft, though marked with small and nearly invisible scars along his fingers, the outcome of a career spent amid scalpels. "If you are in pain, I vill do my best to soothe it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relaxation Techniques

Scout was more than used to being perceived as less valuable. On the team, he wasn’t as much a crucial asset as a useful, but often superficial, extra - a mildly valuable addition in a dangerous situation, sometimes, but little more than that. (Once in a while, a teammate would acknowledge him, but it was rare.) But outside the battlefield - when no one’s life was at stake - he was, in so many words and gestures, overlooked.

He wasn’t sure how it got to be this way, but part of it was probably related to his excess of adolescent zeal, and the other part? Who knows. Seemed like everybody on the team had a bone to pick with him - a shot Scout missed, an intel grab he should have made but didn’t, a dumb decision he’s never going to live down.

But Medic stood out as the exception. Sometimes Scout would go and curl up in Medic’s office with a stack of comics, sitting in an old comfortable chair next to the space heater on freezing nights, or lounging on an operating table with ice packs piled on top of him during the sweltering days. Medic, defying his usual habits, never complained about this intrusion. He just shooed away the doves when they started pecking around near Scout’s messenger bag, or kept Scout occupied with conversation and listened to his memories of times back in Boston, or sometimes, when Scout was especially lucky, let the young runner perch himself in Medic’s lap, leaning over on the desk to receive a back rub.

Sore muscles, Medic claimed, were a liability in battle.

That had to be the only explanation for all this, right?

"Yeah, doc, right there— ooh. Harder." Scout did his level best not to sound like he was receiving something other than a back rub, gritting his teeth and holding onto the edge of the desk despite Medic’s frequent instructions for him to relax. "Ya swear you don’t mind doin’ this?"

"Ja, ja, I svear." Medic dismissed this suggestion lightly with a wave of his hand, strong fingers kneading along the planes and muscles of Scout’s supple back. Without gloves, his hands were remarkably soft, though marked with small and nearly invisible scars along his fingers, the outcome of a career spent amid scalpels. "If you are in pain, I vill do my best to soothe it."

"It’s not pain, it’s just kinda sore." Scout couldn’t help but squirm as Medic finished the treatment, massaging down at his lower back and then all the way back up, taking gentle care with every touch. "What are ya doin’ now— _oh._ ”

And, as Medic planted a soft kiss on Scout’s neck to conclude the procedure, Scout hid his face in his hands and grinned from ear to ear.

"Thanks, doc."

"Liebling, it is alvays my pleasure."


End file.
